In the Shadows of Illusia
by WafflesnRizzles
Summary: An emptiness that Callisto has never felt before opened its ugly mouth when she saw the pain and anguish she put the love of her life, Xena, through. This is the Bitter Suite, through Callisto's eyes.


_This takes place during The Bitter Suite, from Callisto's point of view. I've always had a fascination with Callisto—the monster Xena created. She always seemed to have a certain attraction to Xena, beyond the hatred that she usually showed. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Xena, though Xena owns a good portion of my life at this point… _

I let myself die there. I knew Xena's plan when I let the first lightening bolt zing from my fingertips. As the pillars and stones crashed around me, I thought, 'This is the end I've been searching for.'

It was emptiness that egged me on to dig my own grave. It fell hard and cold on me when I heard Xena screaming after she found Solan's dead body. It sunk into every crevice of my immortal body like stone, making even immortality unlivable for me.

Where was the satisfaction I was supposed to feel? Where was the pleasure? I found myself screaming, willing my body to feel the pleasure it desired. Another scream tore through my body as I smashed a clay pot against the wall. I felt nothing.

What is life without feeling?

I threw a log from the fire across the room. Still, nothing.

I picked up my sword, determined to find somebody's throat to slit.

The feel of a sword in my hand usually sends sweet waves of adrenaline and power churning through me.

Again, I felt nothing. The sword was but a leaden extension of my granite arm.

I turned to leave when I saw her standing in the doorway. On her deceptively serene face played a small smile.

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked.

"Immensely," Hope said, holding her hands out for the sword I still tightly gripped. She threw it disrespectfully on the ground. The little brat had her father's hubris. Still, I got the message: she called the shots.

I tried to live vicariously through her. I tried to remember what rage felt like, what power felt like. That feeling that coursed through your entire being when there was another person's life at the end of your sword… it used to send sparks of pleasure leaping down my spine.

The knowledge that I was about to cause someone unbearable pain…it used to make my mouth curl up in satisfaction.

That indescribable joy I would feel when I watched the face of someone watching a family member die...it would simply feel climactic. Sometimes the face would rip into a thousand pieces of agony. Sometimes, it would adopt a mask of nonchalance, attempting to deprive me of an extra helping of pleasure.

Those were my favorite, because I could always see the pain plainly in their eyes.

I knew as my sword clattered to the ground that I wouldn't have felt that elation had I slit someone's throat.

I knew I wouldn't have felt it if I had gone out and slaughtered an entire village.

My love of death died inside me when I heard Xena's mourning wail, and I could see no more reason for existence. I wanted oblivion.

Hope's eyes met mine as they looked up from cast away sword. With her penetrating, precocious eyes, she could see that my spark had gone out.

"Callisto, you may go. I don't need you anymore," she said dismissively. She had no use for purposeless scraps like me.

I could have taken Xena's life so easily in that cave; why didn't I? I keep asking myself that over and over again, but I only come up with a blank canvas of feeling. No guilt, no remorse, no bloodlust. Gods, what I would give to feel the thrill of bloodlust singing through me again!

Ha. Funny how Xena could make me want death even in the absence of true life, mortality.

I should have laughed when I heard what had become of my fierce warrior princess and her little bard. I should have relished seeing the two hate each other so much.

I should have laughed, knowing that each of them had ended up being the other's demise. I should have had fire again kindle in my belly. I should have felt joy or relief or…anything but what I felt: a hole.

It stuck me somewhere in my stomach and grew and grew and grew, yawning and gaping until it sucked every last inch of me down. It wasn't despair, exactly.

It was a sickening cocktail of disappointment, despair, grief and what I would soon learn to be jealousy. The latter feeling bit me deeply and lingered in my loins, a place I had thought death would be the first to take care of.

I had to get her back. I needed to see Xena with blood again coursing through her veins. I needed to see her strong muscles rippling underneath the weight of a sword. To see her alive again was my sole purpose.

I went straight to the Fates. I knew they alone would listen to my idea—they had held the threads of Xena and Gabrielle's lives and knew, as I did, that they were not meant to unravel from one another and that it was not yet time for their lives to be snipped.

The Fates took well to my idea, saying that I could borrow Illusia, a place between life and death, to orchestrate my plan. They had not yet cut the duo's cords, and had waited, the threads of their lives held momentarily static.

They gave me pieces of the two women's lives that I could plant in the strange land: memories, people and desires that would stir up their old selves. Right now, the Fates told me, the two were little more than shells of that.

It would be up to me to help them find the rest of their essence. Were I to fail, I my eternal life would be spent in a place far more miserable than Tartarus.

I thought of Gabrielle and that feeling gnawed at me again. Rather than resenting it, I found myself cherishing it. I was feeling something, after all.

I thought of the way Xena used to look at the little bard and imagined her giving that look to me. When did my hate take such a comedic turn?

What if I failed? An eternity in a place worse than Tartarus… I shrugged the threat off. Nothing I wouldn't be experiencing, anyhow.

As I sorted through the memories the Fates had given me, I smelled a familiar tang in the air. It was a sultry ménage of musk, blood and conquest: Ares.

"What do you want?" I growled at him.

"I want in," he said simply, not bothering with any of his usual sweet-talk. He knew I wouldn't buy it, anyhow.

"No. Xena is mine," I hissed. I wouldn't have him snatch my warrior away from me now.

"Is the great Callisto _going soft_?" Ares taunted. His words bounced around the meadow like dough and stuck on my skin, rendering my limbs useless. I fell to the ground in a puddle. Illusia was not a good place for an argument.

Perfect.

I tried imagining my limbs back into place, but in the strange land of Illusia, it didn't work. I heard Ares laughing and walking off. I'd deal with him later.

'Illusia: where you have to forget yourself to find yourself,' I remembered the youngest Fate saying. I lay there in my puddle and slowly began to forget my existence. I forgot my name, my body, my being, my essence. I became the puddle, and felt it dripping through the soft, springy grass and onto a hard, rocky surface.

And there I was, Callisto, lying face up on a rock in a tight, watery cavern. I sat up and saw a body floating quickly toward me. Instinctively, I knew it was Xena. Every muscle fiber in my body drew me to her.

As I pulled Xena out of the water, I marveled at her beauty. The rippling muscles, the voluptuous breasts, her cascading hair… my hands wandered over them all. I willed them to be mine. Gods, it would be so easy! Though I hated to admit it then, I knew I wanted more than just her body. I wanted all of her.

I knew that the Fates wouldn't take well to me defiling her, either. And those three ladies are _not_ ones to mess with. They would have those two back together some way or another. And to have Xena ripped from me after I had tasted her—no, I couldn't bear that pain.

I could have spent the rest of eternity running my fingers along her extraordinary body, but after satisfying myself with every last inch of her, I knew it was time to awaken her.

I bent down to her sweet, expressionless face. My lips met hers and I felt a shock of heat tighten my body. It felt warm and exhilarating and languid all at once.

I moved away, frightening at the feeling after such an absence of it. And then, all too soon, she was awake. I knew my chance was past and focused on the task at hand: reconciling her with Gabrielle. A girl can live vicariously, can't she?

Try as I might to avoid it, Xena was drawn into Ares' invented existence. It was a part of her I knew needed to be addressed. I watched helplessly as he courted her, coaxing the darkness back into the vessel that had once been Xena.

He stripped her of the dress I had placed her in. I marveled at her naked body for a few seconds before it was obscured by the heads of dozens of soldiers.

This is what I had worked for my entire life: to have soldiers at my command, to have destruction at my fingertips, the war god at my side… why did it feel so black now?

Black. Who was I kidding? It felt wrong. _Wrong_. That word hadn't occurred to me since Xena slaughtered my family. What was Illusia doing to me?

I watched as Gabrielle viciously ran at Xena with the intent to kill. I knew she was no match for my warrior. Xena easily knocked her to the ground and plunged her sword into the bard.

I felt every millimeter of that blade within myself. I saw Xena's look of despair as she realized she had slain her friend. I knew then that there was a chance the old Xena would be rekindled.

I wanted to go to her, but found my limbs utterly useless. Blood was pouring out of my chest—an identical wound to Gabrielle's—and pain was rendering movement impossible.

I watched, helpless, as Ares seduced Xena, trying to win her back. He knew what I knew: in killing Gabrielle, she had found her love for the girl. In my agony I found myself chuckling: Illusia's backwardness has its perks.

With that, I was freed from my bloody bind. Laughter in pain, another one of Illusia's tricks, I guess. I made my way to Xena's side, trying to release her from Ares' spell.

It worked, though only the gods know how. I transported them to someplace I thought Ares wouldn't ever think of: a destroyed temple of his. I watched as the two tried to argue about the past. Arguments don't go over well in Illusia.

My heart sank as I saw that they were solving nothing. They accused each other time and again, their accusations echoing around the tattered remains of the God of War's temple. Why weren't they solving anything?

Out of the wheel the Fates had given me burst forth a terrible flame: Dayhawk. I bristled at the thought that they were interfering in my plan, but what could I do?

I watched as Gabrielle was pulled closer and closer to the wheel. Xena's eyes burned with rage. I could almost hear her thoughts: _not again_. The Fates pulled Gabrielle through their wheel, dragging Xena with them.

"You have failed, Callisto," the Fates told me, three voices, young, middleaged and old, blending into one. "We shall finish what you started."

Failure. Not something new for me. I was done guiding my warrior; I could only watch now and hope. I found myself wondering what sort of place I would be sent to. A place worse than Tartarus? How could that be…?

The Fates transported them back to Dayhawk's temple. I felt a trill of fear dribble down my spine. I knew the terrors that awaited them. After all, I had aided the monster's attempt to take over the world.

"Whatever happens, we have to go through it together," Xena said to Gabrielle.

Maybe not all was lost. Maybe…maybe I had made a difference.

The Fates conjured up the villains from the duo's pasts. I saw myself there, placed among those who had succumbed to hatred. I was smirking, hatred and evil clearly behind my eyes. Was that really me? _Hatred becomes who you are_. Yes, I suppose that was me.

_Was_.

What was I now? Illusia had stripped me of my identity. I floated above Xena and Gabrielle, watching and waiting to see what Illusia would bring me next. I had never felt so powerless in my life, at the mercy of this strange land and, more formidably, the Fates.

I didn't know what they had in store for my Xena, but I knew that they weren't going about it the right way. I felt the warrior's resolve breaking. I had to do something.

I thought back on how this all had started: Solan's death. If I couldn't save them, maybe he could…

To this day they don't know that it was me who orchestrated their rescue. I let Solan take the rap for that. He's a good kid, and through his love and forgiveness, I think the love between Gabrielle and Xena was truly rekindled.

I watched as the two of them consummated their love in the twilight on the beach. I could swear I could feel Xena's soft lips fluttering over my face as they did Gabrielle's.

As the last lick of light faded from the horizon, I felt myself sucked deeply down into the earth. My lovely vision of Xena was traded for a dark, scraggy pillar of stone. I heard screams of pain and torture, smelled the sickening stench of burned flesh and brimstone.

"Where am I?" I asked aloud.

I saw a grotesque figure, horned and winged. Humanlike, but supernatural in its darkness. Thin, parched lips curled up into a smile. "Welcome to hell," it said.


End file.
